


Cheap Thrills

by HQ_Wingster



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Attempt at Humor, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Country & Western, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: If Viktor's life was a compass, Yuuri pointed North--even though he was West.All because Yuuri had been his lifeline through this whole adventure, and Viktor couldn’t help but follow. Even if it meant sleeping with the scorpions and dancing around rattlers for the rest of his life.





	Cheap Thrills

**Author's Note:**

> This is a preview for a Western!AU that I've been inspired to write. I just want to see if there's a "market" for Western!AUs since there really aren't that many in the fandom, if at all. So I wanted to do a little experiment, and see how things go for the kicks and thrills of it all.
> 
> I recommend reading this with a Southern accent and although this is a PG story, there is one questionable line for the older audience.

Viktor wasn’t a survivalist by any stretch of the word, but he was pretty sure that you needed water to survive.

Especially in a desert, with a miniature stallion and a towering mare that could easily bust a nut or worse. Tons of cacti frolicking across charred sandstone, but you couldn’t tear a limb off for satisfaction.

All because the juice made you have hallucinations, but Viktor would rather have that than the view to his right. Yuuri refused to share his canteen. Viktor was desperate.

His eyes never did leave the swish of the container when Yuuri stowed it away, hidden under his poncho for safe-keeping. Where he kept his knives, loose threads of string, and some other oddities that Viktor didn’t need to poke his nose into.

All in all, Yuuri was a cruel man.  _ A sight Viktor should’ve noticed when they first met, all those months ago.  _ However, nostalgia was for the bright and spoiled, and Viktor was neither.

The roof of his mouth raked in the bits of moisture hidden in the nooks and crannies across his tongue. A taste of the desert right in his mouth, but Viktor had to ride on. Tried to keep steady so he wouldn’t fall off and be another skull under the sand, but this was a tough life for a gunslinging protégé.

There was nowhere to refuel, God’s loving sun burned what was left of Viktor’s forehead, and the man just slouched his torso over Makkachin’s neck. Hoping to one of God’s angels that he would find paradise in this hell.

Did Viktor mention that it was unbearably hot? Well,  _ now  _ he did.

His canteen served as a reminder when he reached down for it but realized that it was empty.  _ For the tenth time in a row, and the poor canteen flopped like a dead fish against Makkachin’s saddle. _

Speaking of Makkachin, the horse began to slow down in this  _ Death March _ .

Her hooves sank into the sand, already given-up on finding rocks to stay steady on. The flick of her mane slapped Viktor’s face, but he didn’t move. Simply blew the hair away before blowing his own bangs off from his one good eye. Kept its focus on Yuuri as he and Vicchan climbed over the crumbling backbone of a desert beast.

Short from a mountain, but the older cousin of a hill. A hill that was on its last leg because Viktor and Makkachin had to climb over it. The brim of Yuuri’s hat disappeared under a shadow, and Viktor lost track of Vicchan’s hoof-prints in the sand.

Russian roulette wasn’t the same without a gun, so Makkachin kicked with her front legs and steadied herself onto platforms that supported her frame. Zigzagged across the mini-mountainside with  a swish of her tail, and Viktor whispered encouragements into her ear.

He rubbed Makkachin’s belly and remembered that he had some leftover grain. Just some oats, but hearing her favorite treat fueled Makkachin like a machine.

She cleared the first half of the miniature mountain within ten minutes before the slow descent. Viktor spotted the crook of Yuuri’s hat near the bottom as he led Vicchan down a steep path.

The miniature stallion was just oh-so adorable with a spotted bandana covering the top of his head, and a load on his back because supplies was a dire-must.

_ Don’t be fooled.  _ Viktor’s scar never did heal the last time he called Vicchan “cute”, and the scar was in a rather private spot. A spot where a horse could easily mistake it as a vegetable, but Vicchan did it out of pure malice.

Yuuri wasn't convinced.  _ Of course, he wasn't. _

Nobody wanted to believe that their animal was “bad”, but Viktor knew that Vicchan was out to get him ever since that incident. So keeping their distance was good, but Makkachin needed to hurry it up a bit.

She was stronger; Vicchan had stamina. Makkachin could easily jump over a boulder mound; Vicchan knew the shortcuts through the crumbling terrain. Makkachin had an encouraging rider; Vicchan had an encouraging friend.

Yuuri didn’t need to lead Vicchan with the promise of treats or baby talk. He just simply stretched his arms out and caught his partner when Vicchan leapt down a steep drop. Tackled back because of Vicchan’s combined weight, but Yuuri caught his partner and that was more important than the bruises splattered across his chest. Yuuri checked Vicchan’s hooves, gave Vicchan a good neck-scratch, and they did it all over again.

To give Yuuri credit, he couldn’t ride Vicchan.

To tarnish Viktor’s reputation, he could do more.

Granted, Viktor couldn’t brace himself and catch Makkachin after a jump, but he could do more than just lounge around like an overstuffed potato-wedge. Viktor grabbed his canteen and leapt off of Makkachin.

The mare stared at her rider as if he was a madman.

She neighed, pawing the earth with an assertive hoof.

Viktor gave Makkachin a good neck-scratch. “We’ll do this together,  _ My Lady.” _

The ground around them was unstable, but Viktor was the lighter one in the duo. He took a risk and tested the ground in front of them before leading Makkachin down the trail. Her reigns wagged back and forth, brushing against her chest because Viktor had let it go.

He wasn’t going to lead Makkachin down a road if she wasn’t willing because sometimes, animals were more perceptive than Humans. Especially towards the end, when Viktor misjudged how sturdy one of the platforms was.

He had seen Vicchan on it earlier and thought it was safe, completely ignored the fact that Yuuri walked  _ around  _ it instead of on.

Viktor fell, but he crossed into the arms of an angel.

After leaving Vicchan at the base of the mini-mountain, Yuuri went to check up on Viktor and Makkachin’s progress. The latter slowly slid down the mountainside and reunited with Yuuri and Viktor before giving Yuuri a generous lick on the cheek.

For the most part, Viktor wasn’t hurt. But in his own mind, Viktor couldn't say the same because he was swept off his feet.  _ Literally.  _ Viktor’s feet rocked back and forth as Yuuri cradled him in his arms.

Judging by how red his face was, Yuuri offered his canteen to Viktor. The latter nearly spilled the contents in between them, but Viktor took a swig and found his hold on God’s very dusty earth when he was back on his feet.

Heart threatening to spring out like a jackrabbit, but Viktor held onto Makkachin’s reigns for support.

For the rest of the trip, she led Viktor down the mini-mountain. Testing platforms with her hooves before walking across. Yuuri gave Viktor a shoulder to lean on so that Makkachin didn’t have to support him on her own, and the two men held a simple conversation.

Just enough so that Yuuri could see where Viktor was,  _ hydration-wise. _

Just enough to remind Viktor that he and Yuuri were on different sides in an unyielding kaleidoscope.

Yuuri and Vicchan towards the West, an entire landscape-- _ a wild adventure-- _ beyond the edge of the horizon. Makkachin towards the South, slowly bridging the gap of experience between her and Vicchan. Viktor’s nose towards the East, not yet ready to trade in a shotglass for a shotgun. Not for the pistol tied to his thigh,  _ tied securely by Yuuri before the start of this journey, _ or the daily rations on his person.

But ever so slightly, Viktor shifted towards the West.

If his life was a compass, Yuuri pointed North-- _ even though he was West. _ All because Yuuri had been his lifeline through this whole adventure, and Viktor couldn’t help but follow. Even if it meant sleeping with the scorpions and dancing around rattlers for the rest of his life.

For once, Viktor hoped that he could catch up.

One day, he would be the one that’ll help Yuuri down a mountain, catch him just in time before a nick of harm sprung up, and cradle Yuuri in his arms. Perhaps, Yuuri might feel a jackrabbit burrowing out from his chest, but he was good at closing the door when he didn't want anybody inside.

By the by, Yuuri was getting better.

His English was definitely improving. His words not so rounded and stocky as before, but there was that  _ Old World  _ accent that reminded Viktor of home. Of little dolls hidden inside bigger dolls, of playing around on a brick walkway, and of foreign words that Viktor could remember with his tongue but he couldn’t hear them. Not anymore, with English coiled behind his ears.

But whenever Yuuri spoke in his native-tongue, Viktor was quick to listen.

By now, he figured that Yuuri was counting out loud. Simple numbers, from one to ten. Something to remind Yuuri about where he came from and why he was out here in the first place. Something to remind Yuuri that he would always be a foreigner, _ no matter how hard he tried to fit in. _

_ ~~~ _

Near the base of the miniature mountain was a water serpent. A muddy snake that stretched for miles in either direction.

Yuuri loosened Vicchan’s load, and the miniature horse waddled towards the cloudy river while Makkachin galloped. Leaving Vicchan behind in a cloud of dust, but Vicchan charged through and ran underneath Makkachin. Surging forward before wading into the water for a drink. Makkachin stooped down and lapped up her own share.

Viktor and Yuuri soon caught up. Namely because they wanted to fill their canteens, and Yuuri needed to get Vicchan out of the river. Nothing worse than a life,  _ that you could’ve saved,  _ dying in your arms.

While Yuuri tried to handle his situation, Viktor rested next to Makkachin.

Dipped his canteen into the water when Makkachin lifted her head. Raking water from the edge of her lips before lowering her head again. Her tail swaying left and right when Viktor rubbed her tummy before tempting her with some oats.

Makkachin kissed Viktor’s hand with her teeth, but it was a dull nibble. A reminder that Viktor was still Human,  _ despite being a gunslinger.  _ Viktor rolled his eyes.

He saw Yuuri’s reflection in the water. A silhouette of a person he wanted to know.

Because under the poncho and dusty hat was an adorkable individual who couldn’t help but coo into Vicchan’s ear. Cradled the horse in his arms, or tried to before Vicchan wiggled out and splashed into the river. Shook his head and a mess of water drenched Makkachin from head to hoof. She retaliated with a sharp kick, washing Vicchan farther away. But in the end, Vicchan simply bobbed like a cork before climbing onto land.

The horses gave Viktor an idea.

He rested his pistol in a safe place before making his move.

Just as Yuuri sat his butt on the banks of the river, a ripple of mud splashed up and smeared his face. He washed his glasses into the water and glanced to his right. Viktor whistled a little tune while corking his canteen. Makkachin had already retired from her drink, kicking up some rocks with Vicchan in the back.

Yuuri leaned back to relax. Handsful of water drenched him from head to toe with a bat of an eyelash. Viktor continued whistling, even though he was scrubbing mud off from under his fingernails.

Yuuri’s eyes darted towards the water, watching Viktor’s reflection. Viktor carved out a flesh of mud, but Yuuri was faster.

Before Viktor knew it, a mud ball crawled down the side of his face before exploding over his thigh. Viktor looked to his left. Yuuri whistled a little tune. Hands evidently dirty, but there was no need to hide if Viktor was going to play dirty. Yuuri gave Viktor a quick wink.

Viktor slapped his hand over the water’s edge, but Yuuri had already slid underneath the surface. Emerging from the short depth before spraying Viktor with a little hand-trick.

Squeezing his palms together, index fingers aimed for Viktor’s face. A spray leapt up and smacked Viktor’s forehead. Viktor shielded himself with his arms, eyes pinpointing where Yuuri was before he dodged under the spray and tackled Yuuri back into the water.

The slick of Viktor’s hair when he had to brush his bangs away with his fingers. The quick smirk that fluttered from Yuuri’s face as he slapped mud into Viktor’s hair. Chirps from Viktor when he pulled Yuuri’s glasses off and held them high against the sky. The splashes when Yuuri reached up, and Viktor just shook the glasses teasingly before Yuuri knocked him back.

Collided,  _ once again, _ underneath the water’s edge.

Yuuri retrieved his glasses and pulled Viktor up. Both soaked to the bone.

Yuuri’s poncho weighed him down and his hat floated across the river when he and Viktor called for a truce. Didn’t last long because Viktor pulled Yuuri forward and the latter was sure that he was going to kiss the river again, but Viktor had other plans.

Never letting go of the man’s arm before bringing Yuuri back to him. Holding Yuuri close against him because Viktor knew that this was on his only chance.

Yuuri squirmed. “What are you doing?’

“Returning the favor.” Viktor smeared mud into Yuuri’s hair, thinking that the latter was going to be an adult about this and call it quits.

Viktor was down on his knees faster than a sinner when Yuuri was through with him.

While Viktor protected his dynasty with tucked knees, Yuuri bathed his head into the river. Scrubbing the mud out from his hair, but it was no use. He stared down at his drenched boots and then at Viktor’s.

They had a long day ahead of them. So long, that it was nightfall before they knew it.

A campfire served its use when Yuuri and Viktor stripped down to the bare essentials as they waited for their clothes to dry. Vicchan snoozed by the supplies, keeping guard of the food and water from bandits, Viktor, and other would-be criminals.

Viktor held back a sneeze. “Why am  _ I  _ in the list?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I’m not saying that I don’t trust you, but I distrust you.”

_ “That’s the same thing!”  _ Viktor hissed, hugging Makkachin for warmth.

Yuuri stabbed the campfire with a stick. Knocking back the black wood before adding a fresh one on top. Their clothes huddled relatively close to the flames, but nothing to be concerned about. Well, Viktor’s clothes were the closest, and he wasn’t sure of what to think about that.

Was Yuuri concerned? Intentionally spiteful for whatever reason? Wanted Viktor to be in dry clothes as soon as possible? Wanted him to strut around almost-naked in a desert?

With fire dancing in Yuuri’s eyes, it was hard to tell.

So to pass the time, Viktor simply drew shapes along the desert floor. Kept his firearms close and Makkachin even closer for a quick get-away if they were ambushed. But under a sky full of stars, why would someone ambush them?

That was when Viktor’s eyes slowly looked down from the constellations to a look at a  _ personal  _ constellation before his eyes. But then again, even stars had their own scars and faults.

Yuuri was never quite the same because of his upbringing here in the West, and Viktor was always going to be that pretty face that couldn’t say,  _ “No”  _ even if he tried. But in a way, that was what made them good partners. Just right for each other in this journey for a ghost train that supposedly granted wishes.  _ What? _

Viktor didn’t believe in it either,  _ at first. _ Until he saw the life swirling in Yuuri’s eyes whenever he mentioned it, so Viktor found himself believing in the fairytale.  True or not, it was the one thing that made Yuuri  _ smile  _ when he couldn’t. It was a reminder that he was going to go home, and Viktor had to go home too.

That was the deal.

Find the train and they both go their separate ways. Never to cross paths until Fate has better ideas for them. Was that the ending Viktor wanted? He couldn’t say since he was probably a character in a Western story with morals, but the ending could be revised. Could be something more, could be something that made these days and nights more bearable. Because it felt like Yuuri was learning more about Viktor every day, so Viktor wanted to return the favor.

Alas, he caught himself staring at Yuuri for far too long. His partner already reached for a knife by the time Viktor looked away. Stared intensely into the fire in front of him, hoping that Yuuri would lower his weapon. He never did.

_ That’s just great. _

But maybe, Viktor could calm Yuuri down. Stares were universal and they were intimidating on their own, but what about holding hands? That should be good. A nice, gentle gesture to ease the spirits.

Viktor had to think about this. Over ninety percent of his body was exposed to the elements  _ and  _ Yuuri. Viktor had a gun, but it didn’t matter.

The myth about bringing a knife to a gunfight would end with a knife down Viktor’s throat if he tried anything fishy. He wasn’t fast enough and frankly, his fumbling finger wouldn’t be able to touch the trigger by the time Yuuri had a hold on him.

But besides all of that, Viktor wasn’t going to kill Yuuri.  _ Heavens no _ . Not after everything they’ve been through in an undisclosed story that hasn’t been published yet for reasons.

In the darkness, Viktor’s hand met Yuuri’s in the middle. Yuuri didn’t recoil right away. He had his  knife ready before he realized that it was just Viktor’s hand that was touching him.

A reassuring finger rubbed the back of Yuuri’s knuckles, almost tickling his skin. Yuuri pulled back from the gesture.

Viktor didn’t grab him, snap, growl, or press himself against Yuuri. Demanding for them to hold hands for the rest of the night. Yuuri didn’t know why he thought of any of those scenarios, but he had felt weird touches in the darkness before. Not from Viktor,  _ of course, _ but it did unnerve Yuuri that Viktor was willing to do this.

Hold hands,  _ that is. _

It was an innocent gesture by all means, but Yuuri wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it. But holding Viktor’s hand was nice, and nothing bad happened. Yuuri still had his knife, but Viktor didn’t have his gun.

Just an open heart and hand so perhaps, Yuuri could do the same.

Viktor nearly grabbed his gun when Yuuri touched his hand. A reflex, if you will. But when Viktor turned his head and saw a tinge of pink riding high over Yuuri’s features, he realized that Yuuri was opening up to him.

They finally reached a middle-ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and let me know if y'all are interested in seeing Viktor and Yuuri journeying across the West.
> 
> We've got Yuuri as a the knife-man, Viktor as a gunslinging protegee, Makkachin as a motherly horse to her rider, and Vicchan as a miniature horse with an attitude to bite.
> 
> Damn, I've been inspired by "The Lone Ranger". It's not a bad movie.


End file.
